


*harley engine noises* come get some

by fourshoesfrank



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Autistic Sole Survivor, Gen, Mechanics, first draft was full of random crap about bike parts, honestly this is just vibes, i cut it out so i wouldn't annoy u guys. blows kiss, i just. i love dirtbikes so much, sole was a mechanic not a soldier, weird liminal intimacy situations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-27 21:15:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30128952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fourshoesfrank/pseuds/fourshoesfrank
Summary: Nick Valentine getting a repair job from the Sole Survivor. there's a million of these fics on here; you guys know the drill. have at it
Relationships: Sole Survivor & Nick Valentine
Kudos: 7





	*harley engine noises* come get some

**Author's Note:**

> brain: ok technically you haven't played a fallout game yourself yet
> 
> me: ok yeah
> 
> brain: so maybe refrain from writing fic about it
> 
> me: ok no
> 
> (i don't control the special interest. enjoy!)

"Hand me the tape, please?"

Nick snaps out of his thoughts and picks up the ever-dwindling roll of electrical tape, hands it over. Gio twirls it on one thick finger before he tears a long piece off, tears it in half hotdog-style, and wraps one of the long, skinny pieces around yet another bundle of wires. Nick suppresses a shudder; that almost tickled. Gio leaves the other half of the tape dangling on the table's edge. 

"Man, the Institute really half-assed the wiring job in here," Gio grunts, like he's appraising a broken motorcycle. Like he doesn't have his friend's entire torso opened up in front of him. He pushes his red hair out of his face and squints as he continues with his inspection of Nick's wiring. 

Nick is way past second thoughts. He's having third, fourth, fifth thoughts at this point. Just a frayed wire, he said. Just needs some tape, he said. And Gio replied, sure. 

Now it's been an hour and Gio has poked his soldering iron into more crevices than Nick cares to count. One frayed wire led to another, one particularly frazzled bundle led to a dent in Nick's spine, one dent led to another and before he knows it, Gio's removed the entire front and back panels. Nick's skin, essentially. The man has a greasy silver tongue, because Nick can't picture himself allowing anyone else to even touch the release mechanisms for those panels. Somehow, Gio talked his way into it. 

"Y'know, normally I'd have the radio on right now," Gio says conversationally, like this is  _normal._ Like Nick is a particularly complex bike that just needs a little extra elbow grease. "Diamond City's got a music station, right?"

Nick nods. He's not fond of what he thinks is happening, but what on earth would he say to stop it? Hey, Giovanni, I know that I'm a machine, but I don't like being reminded of this very obvious fact, so could you stop fixing me even though this is all for my benefit in the first place? I know you stole a Gen 2 repair manual from the Institute and basically risked your life to read it but can we stop, a few stupid words made me a little uncomfy. That's all. 

Maybe something a little less wordy. 

"Alright! Hope my PipBoy gets the signal, don't see why it shouldn't... There," Gio says, after fiddling with the dials on his wrist-computer's radio for a minute. It's not on his wrist at the moment, because he doesn't want the distraction while he works on Nick, but it's sitting on a workbench right beside the two of them. The music plays quietly, which surprises Nick. He kind of pegged Gio for a rock 'n roll, break the speakers kinda guy. Maybe it's for Nick's benefit that the music's turned down, or maybe Gio just doesn't like what Travis plays. 

"Ugh, I'm not a huge fan of this stuff. It's either this or nothing, though." Well, that answers Nick's question. Gio swipes his hair back from his face again, leaving a streak of oil behind on his forehead this time. It contrasts with his tanned skin like an asphalt road in the wasteland dirt. 

Bad analogy, bad analogy... Roads thatmotorcycles used to drive on, motorcycles that Gio used to fix up, just like he's fixing Nick up right now....

"Dunno what—tape again, would ya?—what the hell these guys were thinking when they wired you up, Nick." Gio interrupts the synth's thoughts with more of his chatter. 

"You talk to all your machines this much?" 

"Yeah, actually," Gio replies as he squints at a point deep within Nick's synthetic innards. "But this is the first time I've done surgery, so I might just be rambling. Nerves, y'know." He picks up a screwdriver from the ground beside him and continues working. He fiddles with a loose screw up near where Nick's xyphoid process would be, totally nonchalant—actually, now that Nick knows what to look for he can see that nervous look Gio gets in his eyes sometimes—like he didn't just call this tune-up  _surgery,_ of all things. Maybe he's even more nervous than he let on, doesn't know what he's saying. That's gotta be it. Surgery is for organics. Synths get  _repairs,_ not surgery. They get  _damaged,_ not injured. 

Nick says nothing, Gio says nothing, and the radio signal fizzles out after a while, leaving them in near-complete silence. It's less awkward than Nick thought it would be. The small metallic sounds coming from his torso don't bother him as much as they should, and Gio seems equally alright with the noise. If Nick didn't know better, he'd say Gio looks almost... comforted. No; pleased, maybe? Satisfied? The real Nick was never any good with emotions; makes sense that the synth inherited his ineptitude. 

Some time passes. Nick's not sure how long it takes, but after even more grumbled remarks about Nick's shoddy wiring, Gio announces that he's finished. "At least, for now," he adds hastily. "If you get beat up sometime down the road I'd fix you, obviously. If you wanted." He claps his dirty hands together and begins to put his tools away in the old lunchbox he found a few weeks ago, leaving Nick sitting on the bench with his guts bared for the whole Commonwealth to see. He very deliberately does not let himself dwell on the phrase 'down the road'. 

The synth gestures to himself. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"Nah, I'm just gonna wash my hands before I put you back together," Gio says easily. "C'mon, Nick, I wouldn't want to get your skin all dirty." He waggles his oil-coated right hand in the synth's face to illustrate his point, and makes a face. "Yeesh, it's like having your blood all over me. I could never be a doctor, I'll tell ya that."

Blood. Nick almost laughs at the notion that his oil and coolant count as lifeblood when he barely even counts as a lifeform in the first place. His attempt at suppressing the laughter isn't entirely successful, and Gio glances up from the bucket of water he's scrubbing his hands in. "What's so funny?"

"Nothin'," Nick lies. Gio frowns, then nods and grabs a rag to wipe his hands dry. He picks up the first piece of the synth's torso and slides it into place. His touch feels so gentle, so different from the other humans that have grudgingly patched Nick up over the years. Gio... huh. Like he said, he treats it like surgery. It's not hard to imagine the mechanic as an ER doc with a needle and thread, ready to stitch Nick back together. He half expects Gio to break out some bandages when he's done. 

"There!" the human announces, once the last panel has clicked into place. "Uh, could you make a T with your arms real quick? Gotta make sure the sides connected right."

Nick raises his arms because what else can he do? He's not going to get this quality of repairs anywhere else. Gio's fingertips ghost up and down the seams in his torso, following his attentive gaze, and Nick isn't sure which one makes him shiver but hey. He's shivering, all right. Just a little, but enough for Gio to notice. 

"You alright?"

Shit. "Yeah."

The human grins. "Are you ticklish?" he asks. There's a mischievous light in his eyes that prompts Nick to shake his head no, even though he doesn't really know for sure. Not like people touch him often enough for it to be an issue. Seems like Gio's been trying to cram a hundred years' worth of finger brushes and gentle pokes into the last few hours. Gio doesn't  _know_ just how seldom people touch Nick, of course; he's only been hanging around the agency for a few months or so and he probably still assumes it's his own presence that discourages Ellie from getting handsy with her boss. 

Not handsy like—you know. Just handsy in the 'using her hands to touch him at all' sense. Ellie's from Goodneighbor, but apparently even she draws the line at touching a synth. 

(He doesn't stop to consider that maybe she's trying to respect his personal space. Maybe she's just following his lead, because he never touches her either. Maybe Gio just naturally uses his hands more. Maybe Ellie would touch him if he got her into a situation half as dangerous as the ones Gio usually drags him into.)

Then again, Gio doesn't exactly throw himself at other people either. Just Nick. Either he's weird enough to lavish his affection on an old synth, or he feels more comfortable touching machines than people. Probably the latter. Gio's got a pretty good head on his shoulders. 

"Alright, now I'm really done." With that, the mechanic's touch retreats and Nick watches him slide the PipBoy back onto his wrist, officially sealing the deal. No more repairs today. 

Nick hops down off the table and stretches his arms over his head. He doesn't need to—not like he has muscles to get sore—but it's a reflex, something in the real Nick's memories that makes him seem more human. And, sure, maybe he can plainly see Gio trying to sneakily check his range of motion, and maybe that makes him a little uncomfortable, but don't doctors do that too? 

"Thank you," Gio says quietly. Nick's first instinct is to question what the hell  _he_ has to thank  _Nick_ for, but instead he nods and phrases it a little more gracefully. 

"Well, shouldn't I be thanking you?"

"No way, man. I'd do this anytime you asked. It's just, y'know, it's gotta be hard to let somebody stick his fingers all up in your business," he explains, pulling a face when he says the word  _business._

Nick chuckles despite himself. "Well, I'm running smoother than I have in years," he says. "Thanks." He'll unpack his... thoughts later; right now he's just grateful. Clearing his throat in an awkward situation is another leftover human reflex, something the synth doesn't really need anymore, but it fits right in. Gio doesn't seem to care, though. 

"'Course," he responds. He claps Nick on the shoulder—another touch. A human touch, not a machine touch. The mechanic grins. "Anytime."

**Author's Note:**

> nick:   
> gio: damn dude your electrical wiring is worse than a german automobile wtf is going on
> 
> hope u all had fun ! comments and kudos are pretty cool 😎


End file.
